


twinkle twinkle little star

by greeneyedharpy



Category: Bandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-28
Updated: 2012-04-28
Packaged: 2017-11-04 11:36:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/393390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greeneyedharpy/pseuds/greeneyedharpy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sadness and mixed up rock stars who want more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	twinkle twinkle little star

“I don’t think I could handle being mediocre,” Ryan says to Pete one night when they’re on tour somewhere, anywhere, lying in the grass at midnight on a day of the week Ryan can’t quite remember. They can’t quite see the stars because they’re too close to the city lights, and Pete just laughs, laughs loud and clear and Ryan has this feeling in the pit of his stomach like he can’t work out whether Pete’s laughing at him or with him, and it’s all so dizzying, even the way Pete props himself up on one elbow so he’s leaning over Ryan.

“You remind me of someone I know,” he says with that grin, that famous grin and kisses Ryan; kisses Ryan while Ryan tries to work out whether it’s a compliment or not, because there are so many things Ryan can’t quite work out about Pete.

They have sex for the first time outdoors, under the inky black sky, where Ryan knows there must be stars shining, even if he can’t see them.

\--

“I’d like to be the king of a castle.” Pete hangs out the window of a hotel in a country where they not quite, but only just speak English. He turns to Ryan, spread on the voluptuous bed, a contrast in his white t-shirt and boxers. Never able, maybe never willing, to match Pete’s smile. He flicks disinterestedly through the television channels on a desperate search for something, anything in English.

“I’d like my own kingdom,” Pete reiterates.

“I can’t give that to you,” Ryan says; a finality. He’s closed off even before he said it. Pete turns back to the window, propping his chin on his arm as he lets it dangle out the window while he watches the bustling metropolis below.

“You could be my concubine.” He offers half-heartedly and Ryan tries not to waste time wondering why he never gets to come first.

\--

Brendon is simple. Brendon is uncomplicated and looks at him with big brown eyes and Ryan can actually see the emotions that flicker behind them. He knows exactly what to do when Brendon nuzzles his neck and says, “You look sad,” and maybe, gently, not so subtly lets his hand fall into Ryan’s lap.

Ryan knows exactly what Brendon is thinking when Ryan has his mouth around Brendon’s cock and he’s flushed and gasping and has his fingers tangled up in Ryan’s hair. Ryan knows what he means with every hitched breath, every “ _Ryan_ …”, every hesitant movement, and in the way he doesn’t know what to do after, the way he lets his fingers brush just above the waistband of Ryan’s jeans. Ryan knows what he’s offering; he knows that Brendon would give him so much more if Ryan would let him.

Ryan kisses his lips and slips out of the bunk. No matter how many times he tries though, he just can’t seem to make himself want it more than he wants other things.

\--

“If you can do it, why can’t I?” Ryan snaps, angry, fuming, feeling frustrated with the whole world, frustrated with the one person who wasn’t supposed to let him down. He glares at Pete, stares at him, trying to figure him out, but it’s just like watching fucking French television. There’s meaning. Ryan _knows_ there’s meaning, but it’s hiding just below the surface, tangled up in words and gestures and looks that Ryan won’t ever know how to translate. “If you can fuck your lead singer, why can’t I?”

Pete’s not angry and Ryan hates that. Hates that he can never quite reach the heights of passion with Pete that he should be able to. He can’t chip away at that armour no matter how hard he tries, always separated by some invisible barrier, something that Pete’s put up to keep him out, even while he’s letting other people in. Letting one person in. Ryan knows. Ryan’s seen it even if Pete doesn’t want him to, in the shadows and the secret moments and reflected in Pete’s eyes when he talks of kingdoms and world domination and the future.

“Because you don’t want Brendon.” Pete replies and it’s cold, harsh, final and Ryan feels slapped in the face, but he still wants to tell Pete that that’s not true. He wants to tell Pete that he does want Brendon, wants Brendon the same way Ryan’s always known that Pete wants, loves Patrick, even when Ryan is around, trying to be everything Pete needs. But he can’t say that he wants Brendon because Pete might be right. Pete might be the only one who ever makes sense of Ryan, even though Ryan can’t make sense of Pete. 

“Fuck you, Pete.” He growls instead, unmoved. It would be so easy to turn, to walk out of the room and not look back; go to Brendon. Find someone, anyone who isn’t Pete. But he can’t. He can’t because Pete’s the only one who knows what Ryan means when he says he wants to go on forever.


End file.
